Vanilla Twilight
by Ninja Caterpie
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor gets a bit depressed after Amy and Rory leave as companions. Songfic of Owl City's Vanilla Twilight. Bit of angst.


A/N: I wrote this up in like 30 minutes. ;-; It just came to me, xD. I don't own Doctor Who or anything, etc.

* * *

_The stars lean down to kiss you,  
__and I lie awake and miss you.  
__Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere._

The Doctor sighed and swilled another glass of vodka, dropping the glass on the table drunkenly. He didn't usually drink...but this was special. Amy was special, and she was gone. They'd both known she couldn't stay forever – life would catch up, eventually. He sighed again and reached for the bottle. His clumsy arm reached too far to the left and knocked the bottle onto the TARDIS floor, smashing it. There was a groan from the console.

_'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly,  
__but I'll miss your arms around me.  
__I'd send a postcard to you dear,  
__'cause I wish you were here._

Just one night. He'd only go one night. Just a short visit. Maybe three years in the future. Yeah, that'd be nice, Amy might have a kid now. Might. Maybe it'd be like the dream.

Or not.

He staggered over to the console and pulled at a few levers and jammed a few buttons. The TARDIS rocked and the Doctor was thrown off his feet, as usual. This time, he didn't get up. Did he have the guts to go check on them?

No.

Especially not as the drunken mess he was right then.

_I'll watch the night turn light blue,  
__but it's not the same without you,  
__because it takes two to whisper quietly._

Alright. He was goign to do it. He opened the door and walked into Amy Pond's backyard. No, wait, that wasn't right. It wasn't Pond anymore, it was Williams. Rory and Amy Williams.

Nah, Pond sounded much better.

He laughed. The joke he'd made at the wedding. Rory Pond. Imagine that. He laughed again. His cold, condescending laugh. His laugh that didn't find anything funny.

He looked up. It was night. Well, sort of. The sun was coming up. It was bright. Very, very bright. He cowered under the light of the new day, his eyes unadjusted to the brightness.

_The silence isn't so bad,  
__'till I look at my hands and feel sad.  
__'Cause the spaces between my fingers,  
__are where yours fit perfectly._

There was movement at an upstairs window. No, maybe not. He should be here. He shouldn't be messing with their timeline.

But wasn't that what he did all the time? Mess with timelines? He sighed. What was the point, anyway? She'd see him, miss him, and then forget him again when he left. But he wouldn't forget. He never forgot. He remembered them, every single one, and he suddenly felt very, very tired. He lurched back to the TARDIS and slammed the doors behind him. He heard the click as they locked shut, the TARDIS knowing exactly what he wanted and how he felt.

_I'll find repose in new ways,  
__though I haven't slept in two days.  
__'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone._

His eyes snapped open. Another day gone by. Glass littered on the TARDIS floor, him and his machine. A mad man with a box. He got up, feet crunching on shards of broken bottle before slumping back into his chair. Maybe he could stay here just a little bit longer. Just a bit.

_But drenched in vanilla twilight,__I'll sit on the front porch all night.  
__Waist-deep in thought because,  
__when I think of you I don't feel so alone._

Space and time, all of it, every star and galaxy that ever was or ever will be. It stretched out in front of him as he floated through it, mind blank and, for once, the magnitude of it hit him. It hit him that he was very small, even though he was the most powerful being in the Universe. Even though he was the most powerful being in the Universe, he was still weak. Pathetic.

_I don't feel so alone. I don't feel so alone._

He'd lost too much. Last time...last time it'd made him weird. He'd become drunk on power. This time, he didn't have power to speak of to get drunk, but here he was, sitting alone, thinking of all the best friends and lovers that he'd ever had.

Pathetic.

Although, no matter how weak or pathetic it was, it made him feel better. Thinking about them. They were probably thinking about him, now. Maybe. That made him feel a bit better too. They'd remember the great times, maybe smile and wonder what he was doing now. They sure wouldn't expect him to be sitting around being depressed. Angst, that's the word. Amy would laugh at that. Cheer him up.

_As many times as I blink,  
__I'll think of you tonight.  
__I'll think of you tonight._

As he clambered back into the TARDIS, he opened a floor panel and dug down to find a chest marked P. Palin, Picasso, Presley, Plasmavore...Pond! That was funny. He still had her scarf. Should he return it? He hugged it tightly. Maybe not. He liked the scarf. He liked scarves in general, almost as much as bow ties. Although he did wonder how in hell he managed to think that horrendous tie seven ago could possibly look good...

_When violet eyes get brighter,  
__and heavy wings grow lighter.  
__I'll taste the sky and feel alive again._

He turned to the TARDIS console and, as he strung Amy's scarf around his neck, he randomly pressed at buttons. Any moment in time would do. Just somewhere he could find someone new. Find some excitement. He needed to pump the depression out of his system.

The best way to do that is to put some adrenaline in its place. As the TARDIS came to a grinding halt, he pulled open the doors to find a warehouse being rampaged by Sontarans. He straightened his bow tie, threw the scarf back into the TARDIS (couldn't let _that_ get damaged) and stepped out.

_And I'll forget the world that I knew,  
__But I swear I won't forget you.  
__Oh, if my voice reach back through the past,  
____I'd whisper in your ear.  
__Oh darling, I wish you were here._

He strolled along unmolested by the warriors until he reached the Sontaran warrior guarding human captives.

"You will stop right there if you value your life!" the warrior bellowed.

"Oh, shut up," the Doctor replied, a quick chop to the back of the head rendering the Sontaran warrior unconscious. He pulled his sonic screwdriver from the inside pocket of his tweed coat and unlocked the door to the "prison" cell.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. Basically...run."

* * *

Basically, never written a songfic before, etc, etc, C&C and the lot. :D


End file.
